Date: Mon, 18 Feb 2002 18:01:53 +0000
From: Java Biscuit
Subject: Back to the Playground, eleven
This is a story involving boy/boy, teen/boy, male/male
graphic sex and not intended for reading by minors. If
you are underage, or this type of material is illegal where
you live, please stop now, and go read something else!
This is a completely fantasized story meant only for the
purpose of pleasurable reading. It explores themes which
some readers may find offensive or disturbing. It's not
meant to encourage unsafe, unprotected sex, or to
condone sex with minors.
Feedback: javabiscuit@hotmail.com
Back to the Playground ~ chapter eleven
by Biscuit
I did say no to Josh. He didn't listen at first. I had
to say it a second time, using Daryl's voice.
Josh left a message on my answering machine setting
up our Monday date. I left one on his, telling him that
I wouldn't be there. He left yet another message. Jesus,
I could hear the smirk in his voice this time around.
"I'll be at your place about seven, Brandy, we'll talk."
Yeah, right, I thought, his dick talking to my ass.
It was Trent who bailed me out, with Daryl's help.
I'd only been looking for something to do that night,
so I wouldn't be home when Josh showed up. Trent
said no, not good enough, when he got the story out
of me.
He took me out, claiming it was a good excuse to go
back to his favorite Chinese restaurant in the old
neighborhood. Daryl stayed behind, at my place,
to wait for Josh to show up.
God, I was nervous, but Trent was insistent, and it
worked. Daryl came swaggering into the restaurant
to meet us, at about seven fifteen. Cock of the walk,
beaming at me and Trent like we were his little chicks.
I was only his make believe chicken, but I'd earned his
good will by giving him a chance to strut his stuff and
be a hero to his real chicken.
"No problem," he said. You could practically see the
pride shining off of Trent when they looked at each
other; a little of the glow spilled over on me. All
Daryl had to do was exist, big and buff, saying my
ass was his, and Josh backed off.
Caveman stuff, but I didn't hear from Josh again. I
even got a letter introducing me to the new advisor
handling my investment account, inviting me to call
him if I had any questions.
My shrink had me convinced that I'd stood up to Josh
myself. In as clear a way as he ever expressed an
opinion, in that shrinky way, he said that finding
a means to address the problem was the same as
solving it myself. He really seemed pleased with me,
as far as I could tell.
I took the credit but it was really Skyler. His second
birthday call to me made it plainer than plain could be
and gave me the strength to do what I had to do.
There was only room for one guy in my life, and he
was it. How could I let myself get tangled up with Josh,
run the risk of letting him help himself to what I'd
promised Skyler?
It was near midnight, his time, close to three in the
morning for me, when he called -- from under the
covers of his bed out in Oakland. We never talked
about Josh, or anything like that, but I knew by the
time I hung up the phone that I'd find a way to keep
Josh from ever touching me again.
"Sorry to call so late," Skyler whispered to me. "Can
you hear me? I have to talk low."
"I can hear you," I said. I knew, without him telling
me, that he was in bed, under the covers, by the close
muffled sound. "Happy birthday, Sky. Did you get my
message."
"Yeah, my mom said you called. Thanks."
"Sure." I wanted to say so much. I love you. I miss
you. But I didn't want to cry. I cradled the phone on
the pillow, my hand wandering down my bare belly.
I was getting hard, from hearing his voice, like he
was right there whispering in my ear.
"It's the first time in seven years," he said. "You
know?"
It was true. I hadn't thought of it until he said it, but
it hit me hard then. Since he'd turned eight, when I'd
touched him, naked, for the first time, we'd always
been together on his birthday. "Only three years left,"
he said.
To me it felt like forever. Not for our imaginary
wedding date to arrive, but until I'd see him again. I
didn't say so, it was too depressing.
"Know what I want?" he whispered. I could think of
about a million things he might want. I just wanted to
keep hearing him talk.
"What?" Long pause. I heard him swallow.
"Do it with me now, on the phone, okay?" Like I
didn't already have my hand between my legs.
"Anything you want, birthday boy," I told him.
You'd think we'd have been on the phone a lot,
missing each other as much as we did, but it wasn't
all that easy to talk. He had trouble getting privacy
in the house, for one. The other problem was that
we'd end up more miserable, half the time, after we
talked -- like it made the distance bigger instead of
smaller.
"Tell me how you're going to fuck me on our wedding
night," Skyler said.
It was a little bit of a splash of cold water for me, but
he was breathy, in the long pause where I didn't know
what to say, and that was enough to start warming me
up again.
"I like to think about it," he said, "after, when we're
doing it right afterwards." The catch in his voice was
hot and I knew he must have been getting himself in
a state while he waited for Charlotte and Art to go to
bed, so he could call me. "Pretend like you're wearing
a dress, okay?"
Only Skyler could want such a thing.
I could see his face in my mind, like when he was a
kid, passionate, pleading, sprinkling blades of grass
on me, telling me we were on his ship.
"Okay," I said, feeling like I had back then, half
wanting to laugh and half wanting to crush him in my
arms. "It's after our wedding," I said. God help me, I
could feel the heat through the phone when I said the
word wedding to him. I'd have rather killed myself
than laugh at him.
"I'm taking off my dress," I said. "Am I wearing a
slip?"
"Yes," he said with a soft hiss, and my dick pulsed
in my hand. "Stockings," he said. How could a sound
so quiet that I had to strain to hear it be so intense?
"You're wearing stockings," he breathed the words,
"your ass is wet, you're hard, you want me to fuck
you." Damn, he sounded like he was close to coming.
The truth is I didn't have to do a damn thing, Skyler
was telling himself the story.
Him panting through the phone, hints of rustling cloth
finally did it for me. I could almost see it like he did.
Me all slinked up in satin, my dick hard as rock and
my legs spread, begging him to fuck me. I heard him
groan, muffled into his pillow and I started creaming
myself.
We'd never make it in the phone sex industry. But it
worked that night. Even if it was sad, after, not to be
touching for real.
He ended up getting a lot of shit from his mom when
the phone bill showed up. Looking on the bright side,
at least she hadn't picked up the phone and heard it.
I got through the rest of that fall by increasing the
number of art classes I was taking and shopping for
property. I wanted a home. My new advisor was
'strongly urging' it, and without Trent and Daryl
downstairs, it wasn't the same for me where I'd been
living. The thought of a home was appealing. For me
and Skyler. One way or another, even if it took a few
years, I believed that boy would be with me.
Karl and Lisa both helped me. But, wouldn't you know
it would be Helen, of all people, who found the place
that I ended up buying. She'd stopped working since
my nephew was born and took on my house search like
a job.
She dragged three year-old, Karl Jr., every place she
went. I'd be cringing as he screamed or threw fits in
public and she'd blithely ignore it, like he wasn't
howling or grabbing things and making total strangers
want to kill us.
Every time I met her to look at places, I'd be a nervous
wreck by the end. Still, in all, he was a cute kid when he
wasn't a holy terror. And he was pretty good the day she
phoned to ask me to meet her and a realtor in the Village.
One thing you've got to say for that woman, she nothing
if not efficient. She had a list of criteria, which included
finding a neighborhood where there'd be a lot of other
gay people. I didn't think it was so important at the time.
I'd never had that before. But she was right. It made life
a lot more comfortable, I found out, to live somewhere
that I blended in better.
I loved the place on sight. A brownstone, like I lived
in uptown, but bigger proportions. There was an art
store on the first floor, which the real estate agent
claimed would pay most of the mortgage, and two
apartments that made up the top two floors. She said
I could live in one, rent the other one and it would
make a small income for me. The price was enough to
give me nightmares, but I wanted it. I already knew I
wanted to be up top, in the place that was kind of like
my old one.
Truly, without people helping me, I'd have been lost.
But between Helen, her realtor, and the guy who had
taken Josh's place, handling my money, the things got
done that I never could have managed in a million
years. By the middle of December I owned a home,
and moved my few sticks of furniture into it, with
Trent and Daryl's help.
So there I was, sitting pretty, in my somewhat empty
new home. It was beautiful, like a bigger version of
my old place with a better kitchen and bathroom. All
I needed was a fifteen year-old blond boy to make my
life complete. I tried to make it seem real that he'd live
there by setting things up as if he did. I bought a desk,
thinking of him doing his homework there.
Doing stuff like that can be dangerous. Like the phone
calls. Sometimes it was reassuring to think about him
being there, and sometimes it made feel more lonely.
My sister Lisa and her boyfriend came to my place
on Christmas Eve. Their housewarming gift to me,
a crate of Christmas things. Her boyfriend hefted a
tree up my stairs and we made an evening out of
setting it up, and going out to dinner. One thing you
could say for my new neighborhood, was that it had
tons of places to eat and shop. I loved that. And I was
feeling okay, considering the time of year. Still not
the best time for me. Without Skyler to make it sweet
for me, Christmas was a little too much like it had
been in the old days, a time to think about who was
missing.
I was probably closer to my family, or at least the
Karl and Lisa branches of it, than I'd ever been. The
next day I would go up to Karl and Helen's to watch
the little monster rip through his presents and admire
the now tinsel-less tree. Precision tinseling would have
to wait for Karl Jr. to grow up a few more years. Lisa
and her boyfriend would be there in the afternoon.
Lisa's boyfriend probably thought I was either shy or
didn't like him much. I liked him okay but I avoided
making eye contact the whole night. Once bitten, twice
shy, I guess. It seemed safer not to look, just in case he
was looking back.
My sister thought I was doing great. Compared to
how it was, back when I lived with her, I was doing
great. It was good that they'd come to see me, dinner
with them was at least a distraction and we all walked
back to my place slowly, where they'd parked, looking
at the decorations in shop windows. It was Lisa who
said as we approached the building, "There's someone
pacing on your stairs."
I looked up, expecting to see the guy from the
second floor. He'd already been locked out of his
place once before. A nice enough, middle aged gay
guy, who reminded me a little of my brother Greg,
except Greg would never have done anything as
irresponsible as getting locked out of his house.
But it wasn't my neighbor pacing the stairs, looking
up at my windows. It was a restless boy with honey
colored hair; even in the streetlights I could see his
bottom lip in a serious pout when he turned to scan
the sidewalk.
I should have thrown my arms around him and kissed
him like I wanted to. I don't think us staring at each
other, wanting to and not doing it, fooled Lisa, but I
can't say I had a rational thought in my head. All I
could think was, get him upstairs!
Poor Charlotte. Her loss was my gain. She'd got into
her husband's internet files, snooping to see what he'd
what he'd ordered for her for Christmas. The guy
never should have bragged about how easy it was to
shop online. What she found a was a ton of explicit
emails, to and from other woman.
Skyler said she totally flipped out, printing out reams
of the stuff while screaming at him to pack; in a frenzy
of phoning friends, banks and credit card companies.
As he was pacing my stairs, she was way uptown at the
old homestead, being consoled by Trent's mom.
He and I got inside my door and no further. Skyler
dropped his pack and he grabbed me, trying to climb
into my mouth, grind me into the back of the door
and get his hands everywhere he could reach, all at
the same time.
"Don't ask me anything yet," was all he said to me.
He was so overwrought, wanting it; he'd been hard for
hours and was desperate to get at a bare patch of skin
to rub on. It was a vertical wrestling match, battling to
press our bodies together and somehow get of our
clothes at the same time. The bed was about a million
miles too far away.
Coats on, our hands in each other's pants, I was pinned
to the door. Through the tangle of way too much cloth
there was suddenly a hard, naked cock sliding across my
stomach and my whole body shuddered with pleasure.
Hot and wet, crotches and mouths.
You couldn't call it kissing, that fight for breath
through our swiping tongues.
Skyler got his hands on my ass, with his hips working
a motion that turned me into hot jelly, everywhere but
my dick. The rhythm of Skyler needing to come, it was
imprinted into the marrow of my bones. I swelled up
like a tide pulled by the moon. The same ecstatic motions
he'd fucked me with as a seven year-old boy, seesawing
in my lap on a swing, jabbing me with a thimble sized
dick. It was the same quivering boy, his beautiful cock
bigger and thicker than mine, rocking himself and me to
bliss, with my weight in his hands. I came before he did,
getting the head of my dick rubbed into the damp silky
skin of his stomach.
Skyler was shaky, exhausted, and unbearably sweet to
kiss when he'd come. He was emotionally ragged, too.
Slumped against the door, like a baby at the end of a
tantrum, weak from crying, eyes still showing the
strain of upset, but peaceful, at last.
I got down on my knees to get his shoes off and help
him step out of his pants, one leg and then the other.
I took my time, pausing to kiss a slim, muscular thigh
and his softened cock, to breath in the smell of him
while I was down there.
"My mom's here too," he said then. "She's uptown
with Trent's mom. It's bad." He was looking around
then, seeing the tree, taking in the sight of the place.
"Thank God I'm here," he sighed.
For him, it had been a night and day from hell, his
mom in hysterics, dragging him to the airport where
they'd run from airline to airline, trying to get on a
flight. I guess they'd been there all night and then
through the day. He didn't tell her he was going to
come to me until they reached New York, to delay
upsetting her more and minimize the amount of time
she would have time to freak out. But he knew all
along that he was going to do it; he was burning for
it. I'd told him a while back that my sister was going
to spend Christmas Eve with me, that I was going to
take her and her boyfriend out to dinner instead of
trying to cook.
"I knew you'd come home, eventually," he said.
For a teenager, Skyler didn't have much interest in
beer, or liquor, and I don't drink much. But my sister
had brought a couple of bottles of wine and we had
one of them in bed with us as well as a plate full of
food; the crackers and cheese I'd done up for while we
were decorating the tree. It was a lot like it used to be
when Skyler would visit and we'd wind up in bed with
food, trying to talk, eat, drink and touch all at the same
time. Heaven to put food in his mouth, hear his voice,
see his face. Touch him.
Maybe I was as nuts his mom, the girl that married
dear old dad. He might have been drawn to what was
flaky about me. But I was a lot luckier than Charlotte.
At least I had been since I met Skyler. And flaky as I
might be, for him I'd been pretty steady.
"I'm not going back," he said. He'd washed down a
mouthful of food with the wine and when he kissed
me it tasted salty and like cabernet, and like him. So,
so good. Handsome as he was, he looked worn out
and too thin. He was still growing and part of me was
in a state of nurture alarm, thinking how I had to get
more food in him and make him rest.
"You may have to go back, Sky. All your stuff's there,
and there's school." He gave me a look that made me
see the man he was becoming, strong as steel.
"There's nothing to go back for. Things, Brandy. What.
Clothes, my computer. A half year of school?" He shook
his head. "I'll repeat the whole thing if I have to."
God, I wanted to believe it. Skyler seemed changed by
those few months in California, like his childhood had
been burned out of him. God knows I'd done my share
to make that kid grow up fast, but I wished I could ease
things for him, make his life less serious than it had
become. If I could just keep him with me!
I rubbed my hand across his chest, feeling the shape
of his collarbone, too prominent but so beautiful.
"I'll beg your mom," I said. And that got him to smile.
Smile or no, I was ready to do that. Anything. I kept
waking up in the night, feeling him in my arms and
then sinking back into sleep, thinking what I could say
to her to make her let him stay. I didn't realize that it
was no longer up to her. Skyler was set on what he
wanted and he was done with not having it.